


Salem's Interlude

by lemonadeandrice



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, M/M, Road Trips, Skinny Dipping, Slow Burn, the boys are dumb idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 06:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonadeandrice/pseuds/lemonadeandrice
Summary: Stan, Richie, and Beverly go on a cross-country road trip after graduation, hoping to hold on to everything they're leaving behind.





	1. Eastern Standard

He was nervous, his chest tight and stifling. Maybe it was the hundred and fifty other kids smashed in around him, their voices mixing and churning with the families in the audience, the low static feedback from the microphone, but maybe it was the proximity of Cameron Zeeland, on his left, Brittney Umpqua on the right. Cam was jittering around in a black robe that matched his own, poor Brittney was in a ghastly bright orange reminiscent of the burning of apartment complexes, something he was sure that Greta Bowie had not thought through in their eighth grade year when they’d decided all this. But he was blessed with black, and he thanked whatever gods existed that it was so. Stan Uris fidgeted his cap and took a deep breath. It was graduation day, finally. Thirteen years of school, gone, eighteen years of life, passed by. And here he was, ready to walk across the stage, take his little piece of paper that said that he had in fact passed all necessary courses, dealt with all necessary extracurriculars, shake Principal Mueller’s hand, and say goodbye to his life at Derry High School.

He sat up and looked down past the rest of the ‘T’s and ‘S’s, looking for Richie.

Though only separated by Brittney Umpqua in the seating arrangement, Richie Tozier was off half kneeling, half standing, completely shouting something at Eddie Kaspbrak who was sat two rows ahead and an aisle away, a huge smile plastered on Richie’s face. Eddie was listening to whatever Richie was saying, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, but he was smiling. Eddie, of course, was one of their best friends, seven of them in total, a whole bunch of Losers.

Richie turned his face towards Stan and the brightness of his smile made Stan’s heart flutter briefly. Richie waved obnoxiously at him and Stan shook his head, waving back.

“Party! A party! Eddie is finally gonna get fucked up!” Richie yelled, hands cupped around his mouth and Stan laughed as Eddie pulled him down by his arm. Another quick sweep and he saw the rest of them, his friends, Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom, pushed in together and speaking low to Bill Denbrough who had come down the aisle to speak to them at the end, and of course Beverly Marsh, who was only a handful of seats from where Eddie was, kneeling backwards on her own seat, listening enthusiastically to whatever Richie was saying now.

Stan watched him, admiring for a minute just how lucky he was to have the best friends that he did. Not a lot of people could say that they had six other selves, six other human beings that they could be completely themselves with, completely uninhibited with, and that’s exactly what Stan had.

But something had changed recently, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it…maybe it something in the air or just the fact that they were finally all separating and feeling nostalgic.

Principal Mueller came up to the podium on the stage and tapped the microphone. Richie looked up like an animal sure it was about to be shot at and hurried back over to his seat, Mueller watching his movement like a hawk to make sure he actually made it back to his place. When he saw that everyone had settled back in, he gave a great big smile that made Stan laugh a little.

“Good morning everyone, thank you for your patience, and welcome to the graduation of the class of 2019!” There was a brief smattering of applause and Stan felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to it, seeing Richie leaning over Brittney in a way that clearly made her uncomfortable, but it was probably the last time she’d ever have to deal with him, so she let it slide. Richie’s face was completely lit up and he seemed breathless.

“You ready, Staniel?” Richie asked, his whisper voice too loud. He was too excited, but it made Stan excited too. He nodded, but he felt his heart speed up in response and his face pale.

He had to make a speech, as such was the punishment for any person graduating as valedictorian, and the others had been hyping him up for months. At one point in March, he’d thought about throwing it all away, letting himself miss a few assignments, anything to not have to speak in front of all of these people today. But after a stern talking to from Mike and Ben – well, it was more like a yelling match in which the two of them had very clearly defeated him – he had decided to just go ahead with it. It was his last chance to do anything like this ever again. He just had to keep telling himself that.

Richie gave him two thumbs up and then said something to Brittney that made her roll her eyes. Stan squinted at him and Richie shrugged in response. Stan laughed and shook his head. He had done something different today, and Stan wasn’t sure what it was, but he looked…kind of handsome. That was weird.

The two of them turned to face the front as Mueller spoke, but apparently he’d been speaking for quite some time because he was suddenly gesturing with his hands toward the back of the room right at him and Stan had to look around to make sure it was a gesture for him. “…our valedictorian, Stanley Uris!”

There was more applause and it took him a minute to figure out that it was his time to go, so he stood, nearly tripping over his gown in the process, and took off his cap. He’d worn the navy blue kippah that he’d got for his 18th birthday underneath, against his father’s explicit wishes that it were one or the other, not both, and carried the cap in his hands. Richie gave him a quick slap on his ass as he passed by and Stan blushed, throwing him a look.

There was a ringing in his ears as his nerves swallowed him whole, the screaming of the Losers and applause from his parents and grandparents in the audience drowning themselves in that ringing as he made his way to the front of the graduates, turned studiously to the right and then took the short flight of stairs to the stage.

Mueller shook his hand and let him take the podium, where he adjusted the microphone so it was more absolutely in front of him. He wiped his hands, sweating like crazy on the front of his robes and stared out at the sea of people. He tried to steady his breathing, finding each one of the Losers and letting their familiar faces calm him.

Mike Hanlon, the softest human being that ever existed, his lovely doe eyes shining up at him, a huge smile plastered on his face. Ben Hanscom, who he’d helped train for track their sophomore and junior year, all gentle hugs and the perfect study buddy. Beverly Marsh, with her blaze of hair, her crystal blue eyes that seemed to sing when she did, throwing him a thumbs up. Bill Denbrough, filming not so discreetly on his cell phone in one of the front rows, the nicest kid who still needed help on his algebra sometimes, and would fight to the teeth if anyone ever asked for it. Eddie Kaspbrak, small but mighty, who had fixed up his piece of trash station wagon more times than he could remember, his hands nimble on pieces that Stan didn’t know the names of. And of course…Richie Tozier. His first friend. His best friend. The wildest and loudest and most fantastic human being he’d ever been lucky enough to know. And then there was him. Who had never felt more at home then when he was with them.

“Thank you everyone for coming,” He began, clearing his throat. He gripped the sides of his cap, hands shaking. Ben had told him to write it down, but he knew he’d ruin the notes before he even got to the stand. So, he was going to wing it.

“And welcome, to the first day of the rest of our lives.”

\---

The speech had gone swimmingly, thank god, but he was so glad it was over. The football coach had given a little speech which he had barely registered, still reeling from the high of speaking and the raucous applause that had come after. Then they’d all lined up, received their diplomas, tossed their caps and they were done. High school done. Over with. And how thankful he was.

He stood outside the high school in the cool spring sunshine, looking for everyone. He thought he’d seen his mother, but it was just Sally Mueller, her hair done in an excessive amount of bouncing blonde curls. People kept coming up to him, people he didn’t know, parents of his classmates most likely, they were all a blur to him now, saying congratulations, telling him how much they liked his speech.

Richie found him first, came up from behind him and wrapped him in a bear hug, spinning him around. “Con-graduation Stanny! We’re done with high school I could die!” He laughed, Eddie beside him, looking around all the people. Richie, by some grace of god had shot up like a weed, six foot three and lanky – “like Slenderman,” he would tell people – towering over him and Eddie, who stood only at five-seven. Eddie hugged him too, a huge smile on his face.

“Fantastic speech, Stan, very nihilistic without being overly depressing.” He said.

Stan laughed. “Thank you very much, I embraced my inner Gen Z but tried to sprinkle in a little bit of that Millennial humor we know and love.”

“Ah, yes, I heard the vine reference. Very clever.” Richie said, not looking at him, he was waving at someone behind them. “Ma! Ma! Jesus, she’s deaf. I’ll be right back.” He slipped past them and Eddie watched him go.

“You seen Bill and Mike? I feel like they disappeared.” Eddie asked and Stan shook his head.

“Not yet, no,” He replied.

Eddie shrugged, clearly seeing someone he recognized. “I see my mom, don’t leave yet, we have to make plans.” He hugged Stan again, then was taken by the crowd.

“Stanley!” His name was called, and he turned, smiling as Richie’s parents came up to him, arms outstretched. Maggie Tozier had tears in her eyes as she embraced him, Richie and Wentworth a step behind her. Richie was smiling into the sun, eyes squinted nearly closed behind his glasses. Maggie squeezed him tight and he returned the gesture.

“Oh, honey, we are so proud of you boys –” she said.

“And girl!” Went added.

“Well, let’s be honest, Beverly is pretty much a boy –” Richie added, sidling up to Stan’s side.

“Oh, Richie,” Maggie said, sighing and shaking her head. She placed a gentle hand on both of their faces and began to tear up again. “I just can’t believe you’re leaving us already.”

“Ma,” Richie started. He had pressed in close to Stan with the hustle and bustle of the crowd around him and Stan felt him squeeze his hand. It sent a chill up his arm into his throat and he shivered. Strange…

Leaving already, yes. A few weeks ago, Richie had received a letter saying that he had been accepted to early admittance at Berkeley, classes to begin June 15th. He had, of course taken it, more than elated to get out of Derry at the first chance he got. He had suggested, pleaded really, that the Losers all go on a road trip, one last hurrah, as it were, but unfortunately, everyone else had things to do too. Mike had started an internship at the University of Maine and didn’t think they would give him the time off. Eddie had to go visit some aunts in Toronto and get a summer job so he too could go to the University of Maine. Ben was going to Europe for a mini vacation with his mom before school started in the fall, leaving the day after graduation too. Bill and his little brother George were going on the Appalachian Trail over the summer and had to save their money too.

Stan, who didn’t start University of Georgia in Athens until September, was more than free. And so was Beverly, who actually thought it worked out perfectly because she too had been accepted early, except to the School of Art Institute in Chicago. And, according to her, if they took I-90, they could drop her off first. Richie’s parents had work but would come visit for the official start of term in the fall, letting Richie get more than settled, rather than smother him.

They were leaving the first thing the next morning, about six am, and this was the last time they’d see each other or the other Losers for a very long time.

As if on cue, Beverly came up next to them, trailed after by Mike and Bill. They were all smiling, their faces split in huge grins and they embraced on another, getting their hand-shakes and hugs of congratulations from Richie’s parents, then Bill’s, and then Stan’s parents were there too, all conglomerating together like a drove of birds, coming to nest together once again. Ben and Eddie came up too, their mothers not far behind, phones out and insisting that the seven of them all get together in a photo for their scrapbooks.

So, the seven of them smooshed together, Stan in the middle, Bev, then Ben, then Mike on the right, Richie, Eddie, then Bill on the left, their arms looped around one another, broke into huge smiles. Richie leaned over to whisper in Stan’s ear, and he had to strain to hear it, all of the excitement and tears and the future looming great and terrifying before them threatening to drown his voice out.

“This is going to be the best road trip, ever.” 

\---

The alarm clock burred at him at 5:30, but Stan had already been awake for what felt like hours. He’d been staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, the ceiling fan turning in slow languid circles. He couldn’t sleep because he was filled with nerves. Nerves, and sorrow, and blessed elation. The other Losers had all passed out around him, partied out well after Stan’s own parents had gone to sleep, together so that they might say goodbye, properly, today.

He turned the alarm off, sat up carefully in bed. It was dark, a soft light from the hallway coming in through a crack in the open door and he looked around.

The seven of them had made a fort of sorts out of blankets and pillows, set up their nests on the floor, and fallen asleep, it seemed, as though they had been in the throws of excitement right when they passed out. Richie had taken up residence in the bed next to him, still fully clothed, on top of the comforter, his glasses pushed up askew around his forehead. Mike, like a kitten, had curled up at the bottom of the bed, making Stan’s feet hot and cozy. Neither of them had stirred at the sound of the alarm, and it seemed neither had any of the others.

Beverly had made a bed out of an old sleeping bag and at least eight pillows, making a box around herself on the floor next to his nightstand, holding one of the pillows as though it were a life vest and she was subdued to the waves of the ocean. Ben and Bill had fallen asleep with their heads pressed together, sharing the same pillow it seemed, Bill’s mouth open and snoring softly. Eddie had fallen asleep the most put together, Stan guessed, pillow tucked gently underneath his head, soft fleece blanket pulled up to his chin. They looked so peaceful, he almost wanted to go back to sleep, give himself these fair few hours to just be with them, enjoy the air of them, the home of them. But they couldn’t do that. They had to go.

There was a gentle knock at the door and Andrea Uris’ voice whispered to him, “You awake, Stan?”

He pushed back the blankets and carefully stepped over Bev to go to the door. “Yeah,” he replied, meeting her at the door. She didn’t mind that Beverly stayed the night; it had never been that way for any of them. She gave him a gentle smile, his own face reflected in hers. He’d never really noticed how alike they looked, until right now. The same curly dirty blonde hair, the same soft hazel eyes. How he would miss her when he left in September.

“The others awake? I’m going to go get donuts. Coffee is on.” She said, still whispering.

He nodded. “I’ll get them up.” She nodded, pressed a kiss to her hand, then walked away. He turned back to the room to see Richie propping himself up on his forearms, glasses still up on his forehead.

Stan went to him, carefully climbing back on the bed. He heard Mike stir at the foot and he fixed Richie’s glasses. Richie gave him a soft, pleasant smile. “Time?”

Stan nodded. Mike had rolled over and was stretching now. He heard the tell-tale yawn of Ben, and knew it was only a moment before Bill and Eddie were awake too. He leaned over the edge of the bed and gently shook Beverly, who gasped awake, but then remembered where she was, pressed her face back into her pillow. Then, as if in a daze, they all remembered where they were. What today was.

It took them about twenty minutes to get their things put back together, teeth brushed, coffee drank, whispering excitedly in the kitchen of Stan’s parents’ home. Donald Uris had awoken too to say goodbye, joking with Bill about the dangers of hiking. Mike was massaging Eddie’s shoulders, who had, indeed, in the privacy of Stan’s bedroom, got drunk on Mike’s Hard Lemonades that Mike’s uncle had bought for them. He was nursing his coffee like it was mother’s milk. Stan watched as everyone came together, then back apart, quietly pretending that this wasn’t goodbye, that he would see them all again soon.

But something felt different about this goodbye. He couldn’t put a finger on it. He just knew that it was heavier than normal.

Sunshine peeked up over the horizon, spilling its tired orange rays in through the window, and it was time. They put away their dishes, helped Stan make the bed, ticked off final items on the packing list, and went out to the car.

Stan’s mother hugged him for a very long time, trying to hold in her tears in a stoic way, so that she could be strong. His dad did the same, telling him to be careful, let him know where he was. Stan said that he would. They were all saying goodbye, hugging one another and Stan could hardly keep his own tears in. This is goodbye, this is really goodbye. It was like a game, see who could hug who and get to the next first. Stan knew he would see them all when he got back, he wasn’t worried. But this might be the last time Mike saw Beverly for a while. It might be the last time Richie could give Eddie shit. They were all destined off to the four corners of the world and they didn’t want it to be a wasted farewell.

As the sun finally drew over the trees, they piled into the dusty brown station wagon that Stan had got two years ago for his 16th birthday, gave their final waves of goodbye, and pulled away.

The group of them, standing on his front lawn, grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, Richie and Beverly sitting quietly in their respective places, surrounded by their stuff. It wasn’t until they got to the Derry city limits that any of them spoke, and it was, of course, Richie.

He rolled the window down, still one of those crank ones, undid his seatbelt, and then proceeded to stick his hole torso out and screamed at the top of his lungs. It was like a firecracker went off in the car. Beverly was screaming too, sticking her head and hands out the back window too, flipping double ‘fuck you’s at the city where they had grown up, Stan so suddenly filled with wild hope that he could barely contain it and he was screaming too, pressing down on the gas until they were flying leaving the remnants of their childhoods far behind them. 

\---

The small car flew down I-95, through Augusta, then Portland, then into the tip of Massachusetts before any of them noticed. They were into New York as two o’clock hit, making fantastic time, stopping for lunch in the city, then carrying on so they couldn’t get distracted by any stores or the people. They were making fantastic time it seemed, taking turns driving, turns manning the road trip playlist Richie had put together for them, taking little naps. Soon they’d be passing through the tip of Pennsylvania, then Ohio, where they might stop for the night if they couldn’t think they could make it to Chicago by nightfall.

“I definitely think we could make it, if we all just take turns sleeping some more.” Stan said from the passenger seat as Bev took her turn driving. He trusted these two to drive more than he would have liked to admit, but they trusted him, so what could go wrong.

“I need to get out and move around soon, take a leak, streak through a park, maybe,” Richie said, sprawled out in the backseat with his hand thrown over his eyes. Even completely laid out, his knees were still bowed up from his excessive height.

Beverly laughed. “You can get out when we stop again, instead of pretending you’re too cool to go into a highway gas station bathroom.” Stan leaned over the seat and looked at Richie laying there. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he had to admit, it was a little funny.

Richie risked a peek out from under his hand and caught Stan’s eye. Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that what it is?” He said. “You’re too cool to pee in a disgusting bathroom?”

He shot him a wink and Stan’s heart picked up. “You don’t understand, Staniel, I have peewee league flashbacks in bathrooms like that. It’s like I’m six years old again and I was a very ugly six-year-old, Stan. Believe me.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” He laughed.

“Oh, I’ve seen pictures, Stan, he didn’t get his looks until at least junior year.” Beverly joked.

“I was hot in eighth grade and you know it!” Richie retorted, pointing at the ceiling of the car. That broke them all up.

They were passing through Syracuse, Stan’s turn to drive again, and ‘Girls Like Girls’ started crooning at them through the speakers, even over the roiling wind of the open windows Stan could hear every word. Beverly had her feet propped up on the passenger seat headrest, her heart-shaped sunglasses pulled down on her nose. Richie had his arms, long and sinewy, thrown behind him, running a tickling finger up and down her shin. His eyes were closed to the wind, a soft smile on his face.

Stan kept throwing sidelong glances at him, smiling gently to himself. Regardless of how often vitriol came out of his mouth, he did have nice lips. Pull back, Stan, he thought to himself. What a weird thought to have. Bev was humming in the back along, playing with Stan’s hair, so loving and gentle it was almost distracting.

He almost didn’t notice the smoke at first.

Bev pulled her feet down, putting the sunglasses up on top of her head. “What’s that smell?”

Then he saw it. Blue-grey smoke was pouring out of the front of the car and he slammed on the brakes, pulled over to the side of the road and then they were dumping themselves out on the grassy side of the highway, Stan holding his hands in his hair like two frightened birds, frightened doves perhaps, Streptopelia risoria, perhaps, and how was he thinking of that right now, his fucking car was on fire!

Bev was on the phone with someone, 911, Stan hoped, and Richie was pacing back and forth in front of the car. “Should I get our stuff!” He said and Stan grabbed his arm.

“Richie, Jesus, no!”

After maybe fifteen minutes, the smoke had nearly died down completely, and a New York State patrolman pulled up in front of their car. He was a big man, but super polite, even when he saw the three idiot teenagers, standing in a frightened huddle on the side of the road. Beverly wasn’t even wearing shoes.

“Everyone alright?” He asked as he came up to the side of the car, looking at the hood, then back at them. They nodded at him, frenzied but alive. Stan’s pulse was racing throughout his body, adrenaline finally cooling off just enough. Richie seemed the most frightened, his dark brown hair flipping out of control in the wind of the day and the passing cars.

“This your vehicle, son?” The cop asked, pointing at Richie, who seemed to be in a state of shock, and Stan took a small step forward.

“Mine, sir. It just started smoking. I just got an oil change and we were going the speed limit.”

The officer held up a hand. “It’s alright, might be transmission, maybe not. Let me take a look. Can you pop the hood?” Stan nodded crazily and carefully went around to the drivers’ side, pulled the little latch that loosened the hood. The officer, Officer Bryant, his nametag read, pulled on a pair of gloves, unhooked the hood and held it up.

The smoke was gone, thankfully, but a little steam seemed to be rising from the engine. “Oh, that’s not too bad. Looks like a hose just got loose.” He reached down inside the car and fiddled with something. The three of them cautiously came up in front of the car, Stan suddenly feeling very stupid for thinking the whole thing was about to go up in smoke. If only he’d paid attention when Eddie had fixed it before.

Bryant was holding the tattered remains of a black hose, and let it flop back down. “That’s an easy fix, maybe twenty-four hours tops. Just needs replaced. Where you kids headed?”

“Chicago,” Beverly said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag off it. Bryant nodded.

“Well, I know a guy here in the area who would be more than willing to fix this up for you. Not too expensive and he works pretty quick. I’ll give him a shout, hold on.” He went back towards his car, its rolling blue and red lights making Stan feel even sillier.

Richie had started laughing and Stan gave him an incredulous look, but then he was smiling too. “It’s not funny, Richie, we could have died!”

“A fucking hose broke loose, and we called the cops!” He threw his head back and then Beverly was smacking him on the arm.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, we’re in New York I have no idea how they handle things here!” But Richie was still cackling, even as officer Bryant came back, pulling up on his belt a little.

“Alright, they said ten minutes, they can even give you a rental car until it’s fixed.” He looked at Stan and smiled. “You guys be careful on your way to Chicago. Good luck. Oh, and miss,” He gestured to Bev. “Make sure you get some shoes on before you go, the asphalt is hot today.”

The three of them offered him thanks and goodbyes and waved as he pulled back into the flow of traffic. And then they had to sit down in the grass because they were laughing so hard, feeling like complete and total idiots. Not even a day in and the car was broken.

It took maybe eight minutes for the tow truck to get there, and by then, Richie and Beverly had both put away two full cigarettes. The man, whose name was Jim, gave them a ride back to the shop, where there were indeed some rental cars to choose from.

Jim said it would probably be ready at 8:30 or 9 the next morning, that they should try to get a hotel. It would set them back half a day and that was so long, Stan thought. He thought that Beverly had to be in Chicago Thursday morning. Could they make it? It was still another ten hours to the city.

Richie found Stan out in front of the mechanic shop, texting his dad to let him know where they were. He did not mention the car breaking down.

“It’ll be okay,” Richie said, his tone placating and gentle. He put a hand on Stan’s shoulder and Stan turned to him. He was only five inches shorter than Richie but he felt so small next to him. Richie’s blue eyes were bright and shining behind his glasses and it made Stan smile.

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t want Beverly to be late is all.”

Richie waved a hand. “She’ll be fine. She’s never been on time to anything in her life.”

“Says the guy who’s the reason graduation started late.” Beverly said as she came out of the shop, twirling a set of keys around her middle finger. Richie made a talking motion with his hand and Stan snorted. She handed him the keys.

“Let’s see what this city has to offer boys.”

\---

They drove around for a while, just sightseeing, Beverly in the backseat reading out things they could go do.

“There are some campgrounds up at Green Lakes State Park, we could go see what there is to do up there, maybe hike a bit.” She said, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette. She pointed the phone up at Richie, who was in the passengers’ seat, who had to squint at the screen. Stan looked over at him and laughed. Even with his glasses on, he couldn’t see for shit.

Richie smiled, a wicked grin. “Or,” He began, handing her the phone back. “We could be bad.”

Stan didn’t exactly like the sound of that. “Bad?” He said, worry in his voice.

Beverly giggled. “Oh, yeah, what kind of bad?”

“Oh, you know, the sinful kind.” Richie gave Stan a wink that did nothing to placate his worry.

“Skinny dipping?” Beverly said, as if she’d been reading Richie’s mind.

“What!” Stan exclaimed, looking quickly between the road and the other two.

“Yes!” Richie replied.

“No!” Stan said, shaking his head. “No way, you guys, that’s illegal and gross.”

“Oh, come on Stan,” Beverly pleaded. “We’re adults now! We’re on the precipice of something great and terrible, we have to do something crazy!”

“Something crazier than driving cross-country in my on-fire piece of shit station wagon? You guys, we could get arrested! We could get leeches or something!” Stan was on the verge of barking laughing, trying to see how better to explain to them that this was, in fact, a bad idea.

“Ugh, you sound like Eddie,” Beverly said. Stan had to think for a moment. He did kind of sound like Eddie, he thought.

“Stan, if it’s that big of a deal, you can keep watch for us,” Richie offered, holding his hands up like he was weighing the options.

“Or I could keep driving until it’s time to go to sleep, how about that?”

\---

It ended with the three of them sitting in an empty campground, staring out at the water. Beverly was in the process of taking off her shoes, Richie doing the same and Stan sitting uncomfortably in the drivers’ seat, pressing his forehead into the steering wheel. He didn’t want to do this, and he wasn’t usually the type to be peer pressured into anything. But they had made semi-reasonable arguments, or so he would tell himself for now.

“The coast is clear, let’s go,” Richie said, making it sound like they were about to go out on some sort of spy mission, but instead really just putting themselves at risk of getting put on some type of registry.

“Guys I really don’t think we should do this, that water is probably freezing.” It looked green – ha, Green Lakes, right – and unsanitary. “Maybe I should just stay here in the car.

“No way mister,” Bev said, leaning up over the center console. “You’re going, even if it’s just to be a stick in the mud.”

Richie turned to him, a smile on his face. He had taken his glasses off – for Beverly’s decency, he joked – and took Stan’s face in his hands. His hands were warm and rugged, and they covered most of Stan’s cheeks and he suddenly felt very vulnerable, mere inches from the freckled tattoos of Richie’s nose. “Stanley, we have very few opportunities in our lives to be uncontrollable assholes. We’re about to go be structured assholes for the next four years. If we don’t do something crazy like this, just once, then what are we living for?”

Stan contemplated this, drawn into the complete ocean floor that was Richie’s eyes and he could see himself drowning there. But how wonderful it would be to drown there. He gave a gentle nod.

Richie returned the nod but didn’t let go. “Now,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Is we men, or is we mice?” He cocked an eyebrow at him.

Stan could see Beverly out of the corner of his eye, her hair falling into her eyes just enough, smiling herself. He chuckled. “We’re mice.”

That was enough for Richie, whose smile broke bigger than before, and then the three of them were slipping out of the car.

They ran quickly, the sun dipping below the trees, sunset not for another two hours, but it was going to be dark enough here for them to be completely free, even for a moment. Stan’s heart was pounding away in this throat, and he ran down to the middle of the muddy beach, if that’s what it could be called, and saw that the coast was indeed clear. It didn’t look like anyone had been in this part of the park for quite a while, or at least not today, and that eased his mind just enough.

Richie and Bev came up on either side of him, barefooted, and then, as if it were a race, the two of them were tearing their clothes off, shirts over heads, Richie nearly tripping over his pants as he pulled them down, underwear and all and Stan blushed, looking anywhere but at the pale milk of their skin, and then they were off again.

He watched their stark figures as they hollered and screamed running towards the water, kicking up muddy sand behind them. He could see the smooth curved outline of Beverly’s backside, Richie’s straight lines of limbs and then, in a scream, he assumed they hit the water.

“Holy fuck!” Richie cried and it made a laugh draw on Stan’s lips.

They were splashing in further and further until they were at waist level, and then Beverly dove in, coming back up with a barking laugh, the cold driving to the bone, he assumed.

Richie turned in the water toward him, water barely coming up to his bellybutton, and Stan felt himself blushing. “Come on, Stan! It’s not bad once you’re in it!”

And what was stopping him, really? Did he want to wake up tomorrow and feel like he had missed out on this memory? Did he want to look back in ten years and feel like he had let perfect opportunities escape? He wanted to be brave. For a fleeting moment, the thought that Richie might think he was brave crossed his mind.

So, he began nudging his shoes off. He took off his socks, placed them inside the shoes, then placed his kippah studiously on top. Then, he pulled his shirt over his head. Beverly and Richie were cheering him on from the water, their voices echoing out across the still green water, and then he was down to his underwear, taking a brief moment to fold his shirt and pants and place them on top, then, quickly, before he could really talk himself out of it, out of his underwear.

The muddy sand was cool under his toes, even if the air was hot on his skin, and he ran at the water, bracing himself for what was, yes, extremely cold water and then he was in up to his waist and Beverly and Richie were circling around him, like some inane mating ritual, not really saying anything, just making excited sounds. Richie watched him as he swam, trying not to let his feet touch the suctioning bottom of the lake, and he felt nervous. Richie’s cheeks were red, but maybe that was just because of the cold. He hoped he hadn’t been out of the water long enough for them to see everything.

But as they splashed and sang and dove and laughed, he let all that worry slip away. He was here, free, in this freezing cold lake, and he had never felt more alive.


	2. Central Standard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev gets dropped off in Chicago, and the boys have a heart-to-heart under the stars.

They picked up the car early the next morning, paying the greasy mechanic and hurrying back out onto the road. Though it had only been twenty-four hours, it felt as though the breakdown had set them back literal years. 

“You guys should just not stay as long in Chicago,” Bev said from her place in the passengers’ seat, leaning over to speak to Stan who was reading a New York Times article on his phone. He looked up without moving his head, flicking his eyes to Richie, who seemed to lounge as he drove. He had his arm lightly tossed over the head of the steering wheel and Stan traced the line of his neck. He had so many freckles, god, what an incredible sight. He shook his head to clear the thought, looked back at his phone, anything to pull his focus away.

“I mean, sure, but we want to spend time with you,” Richie said.

Stan set his phone down and pulled himself up in his seat, tightening his seatbelt without thinking. “It might be the last time we get to see you till maybe Christmas.” 

Bev snorted, flashing a brilliant smile at him. “You think I’m going to go see my parents for Christmas? That’s cute, Stan.” She turned back to face the front in her seat. “I’ll come see you guys in Cali and Georgia before I go back there.” 

“Oh, Bev!” Richie said, lashing his free hand out and grabbing up hers, intertwining their fingers together. He put on a ridiculous southern accent, one that, thankfully, had become better as he got older. “Let’s run away togetha! Forget school and forget our families! Run away with me, Beverly, and we’ll leave this one pony town behind us! Marry me Bev! I promise ya I won’t leave ya for a younger man –”

Beverly was giggling, trying to pull away and Stan smiled in spite of himself. Richie had puckered his lips out and was making kissing sounds. His glasses slipped down his nose a little as he let go, slumped back down into his seat. It got him and Beverly laughing though and Stan watched the two of them, his eyes lingering on Richie. There was something about him here now…but Stan couldn’t place it. He just seemed…genuinely happy. He was chattering on about something and the way he spoke with his hands, the way his eyes glittered…He ran his eyes over Richie, unaware that he was grinning. How had he never noticed how strong he looked? Like, he had actual muscles in his arms, and his hands…

He looked up, suddenly feeling watched and there was Beverly, her mouth open slightly, looking from him to Richie and back. She cocked her head at him, and he felt himself blush. Fuck, what does she think?

He picked up his phone, anything to not be looking directly at her anymore. But he could still feel her eyes on him, and so it was safer to ignore her altogether. Because unfortunately, she probably knew exactly what that blush on his cheeks was saying, and that was a conversation he didn’t think he could have right now.

\---

Though the GPS had said it would take a little over 10 hours to get from Syracuse to Chicago, it took them almost 12 due to a stop in Cleveland that Richie insisted was, “Completely important, for science,” but then ended up with them driving around nearly an hour looking for the office building that may have been the set of The Drew Carey show, and of course another stop in Michigan City for a quick sit down before it was too late. By the time they had got into Chicago, the sky was lit in a purple hazy twilight and the streets were filled with twinkling lights.

Beverly had her hands pressed against the windows as Stan drove, marveling at the sights and sounds of the city, completely huge and overwhelming in comparison to Derry, but he was happy to see her happy. She kept turning in her seat to point things out to Richie and him, clapping her hands together in excitement every few minutes.

“Oh, my god, it’s so beautiful!” She exclaimed and then she was leaning practically over his lap to look at something only seen through the drivers’ window. He laughed and looked in the rearview mirror at Richie. 

He too had his face pressed to the glass, his glasses fogging up from his breathing and Stan blushed, then blinked back at the road. 

“What are we gonna do tonight?” Bev asked, nearly breathless. “I don’t have to check in until eight tomorrow morning.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Gay cluuuuuuubbbbb!” Richie said, coming up over the center console. His face was momentarily right next to Stan’s and he caught himself feeling very nervous. He tried to hide a smile.

“You really want to go to a gay club?” He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, Stanny, there’s no where cool like this near us! I wanna see some queens!” Richie pouted. “I’m a grownup I wanna fuckin’ party!” 

Soon both he and Beverly were pleading in his ear and Richie raised his hands up, fingers bent, like he was going to attack, and sure enough, he began to tickle Stan with such ferocity that Stan was sure he would crash.

“Okay, okay, okay! Stop tickling me, oh my god!” He shoved Richie away and gave him a quick smile. Richie pressed a quick kiss to Stan’s cheek, and he felt himself flush. Beverly was beaming at the two of them and it made Stan even more nervous. 

It took them easily thirty minutes to find parking, and even then, they had to walk another fifteen blocks to get to The Baton Lounge. Though Richie and Beverly were pulling him along by his hands, the feel of Richie’s rough fingers on own palms making him dizzy, he was excited, and a little nervous. 

He was out to the Losers, but none of his family. That was a conversation he couldn’t see himself having with his rabbi father, “Hey dad, don’t mind me, I’m just letting you know that I am not straight.” His mom would probably support him, but he didn’t want to put her in the compromising situation with his dad. He just didn’t really know what he thought about all that. 

And it was easy to be out to the Losers. Basically, every single one of them was a little gay. He’d always heard rumors that gays tended to gravitate towards each other, but he didn’t realize just how true it was when they spent the entirety of the summer before their junior year coming out, one right after the others. Except Richie. He never really came out because he was never very quiet about what or who he liked. Regardless of where they were or who they were with. 

He’d also never been a gay club before. He knew what to expect – they were just like any other dance club, but there would be drag here tonight and he was excited to see that.   
The inside of the Lounge was smoky, even though there was no smoke in the air and the lights were low. He almost forgot to take off his kippah he was so distracted by the place. There were already quite a few people crowded in at the little cocktail tables and around the stage where a beautiful queen wearing a tight leather outfit was lip singing a sultry rendition of Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande. Stan was completely in awe of her. She even kind of looked like Ariana. 

Beverly snuck off to the bar to get them a few sodas and Richie came up next to him, pressing his mouth quick against Stan’s ear. “I think you’d look good as a queen.”

The feeling of his breath against his ear made Stan shiver and he took a deep breath. “I think that’s more suited for you there, Rich.” He smiled at him, suddenly unable to make eye contact. He was nervous. And it was Richie’s fault, he was sure of it.

Richie sighed, nodded, putting his hands on his hips and surveying the room. “Oh absolutely. I’ve perfected the art of hiding my dick.”

Stan shook his head and mercifully, Beverly came up beside them. “It’s because his dick is so small, don’t let him trick you, Stan.” She gave him a wink as she handed them drinks.   
“Now that’s just mean, Beverly, I thought we had a mutual nude-tual understanding here.” He pouted and Stan giggled. 

Bev shook her head at him and took a sip of her drink. Stan sipped at his own, just club soda, and they went as a group to one of the little tables, sitting around it, Bev between the two boys, as the Ariana lookalike left the stage to applause and the next woman was introduced. 

The place was so loud, even if not terribly crowded and it took a hand on his shoulder for Stan to realize that someone was speaking to him. Beverly’s big blue eyes blinked at him in the low red lights and her mouth moved like she was speaking.

“What?” Stan said, leaning towards her.

She leaned too so that her mouth was right next to his ear and repeated herself. “Are you and Richie a thing?”

He sat back and squinted at her. Is that what she’d got from the look in the car. It had just been him. Why did she think they were a thing? He shook his head.

“What are you talking about?” 

She smiled and leaned back towards him, just enough. “You guys have been eyefucking each other the whole trip. I’m not an idiot.” She wasn’t being malicious, in fact she looked sort of…proud. 

Wait…had Richie been looking at him too? No, there was no way. That was just how Richie looked at people. Right?

“No, we’re not…” He paused, suddenly so overwhelmed with the idea that maybe it wasn’t completely one-sided. “There’s nothing going on here.”

Thankfully Richie was fairly caught up in the dancing of the woman on stage, who was singing Can’t Be Tamed by Miley Cyrus, and wasn’t paying attention. Stan couldn’t drag his eyes away from the cut of his jawline, the stubble that was starting to appear there. Beverly nodded but gave him an incredulous look.

“Regardless of what happens, I want you to be happy,” She was leaning over so far now they probably looked like they might kiss, and Stan had to swallow the knot in his throat. “I want both of you to be happy.” She gave him a pointed look and he read every piece of the truth there. 

“Bev,” He said, putting a hand on her forearm. She paused and looked at him. “Has he…said something to you?”

She shrugged and shook her head. “He hasn’t. I just have a feeling.” 

“Hey!” Richie said and Stan jumped. He was looking at the two of them, taking a long drink off his straw, then pointing at them with an accusatory finger. “Y’all better not be planning any shenanigans!”

Stan laughed and pulled his seat in closer to the table. “Never!”

“Without the shenanigan king? Please!” Beverly added and she bumped shoulders with Richie. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed his face into her short red hair.   
Stan looked away, a little embarrassed, taking a drink and folding his hands in his lap. When he tried to glance subtly at Richie, he found him already looking, his blue eyes darker in this low light. 

“You okay?” Richie mouthed, looking a little concerned.

Stan nodded and then, Richie winked at him. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he thanked god for the low lighting, because he could feel his cheeks burning, little blossoms of fire, hot to the touch.

\---

They crashed in the car in a parking garage, and it was Beverly that first woke up, excited to get to the school. Richie seemed far away as they drove, staring out the window in the backseat, not speaking. Stan wondered if maybe it was sleepiness, or just nerves. 

The school, a tall glass building that looked more like it housed offices loomed over them. Stan and Richie, after parking and walking back, stared up at it in awe. Beverly didn’t pack a whole lot, one large backpack and her portfolio bag, strapped with her sketchbook of designs, and Stan was briefly grateful he didn’t have to lug a bunch of stuff up several flights of stairs to move her in.

Bev turned to them, her face bright and pink. She was so beautiful there, in her ripped shorts, pale flowered blouse, and doc martens, a pair of roller skates hanging around her neck. “This is it, babes,” She said and opened her arms for a hug.

“Wait, we’re not taking you in?” Richie said, covering his eyes from the sun reflecting off the building. Stan had assumed the same thing. Beverly let her hands fall but smiled regardless.

“Oh no, I’m here for orientation and registration, I met someone online who said they could help, even offered me a place to stay!” 

Stan blinked. This was the first he was hearing about it. “Who?”

“Beverly!” As if on cue, the three of them turned toward the entrance. A blonde woman, taller than Beverly but shorter than Richie was coming down the stairs, hands in the pockets of her cuffed skinny jeans. Her arms were littered with tattoos and the side of her head were buzzed down, showing off a blooming sunflower tattoo on the left side of her skull. 

Stan and Richie were taken aback. This was who she had met, eh? Bev and the girl embraced, and the blonde planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. “You made it!” She said. 

Bev looked back to the boys. “Rich, Stan, this is Kay. She’s gonna be my new roommate. Kay, this is Stan and Rich from school.” 

Kay put a ring-clad hand out and they shook, one after another. “It’s nice to meet you guys.” She was beaming at them and Stan felt very small. Kay was absolutely beautiful. Ridiculously stunning even.

“You take good care of this one,” Richie said, gesturing to Beverly, who was smiling up at Kay. “She’s real important to us.”

Kay nodded and put her hands in her back pockets. “Oh, she’s going to amazing here. Chicago is definitely more her speed.”

Stan had to shake his head to bring himself back to where they were, standing on the busy sidewalk in the middle of Chicago, saying goodbye to Beverly. “I think she’s going to be just fine.” He said, and without thinking, pulled Bev into a hug. She squeezed him back and then Richie was wrapping his arms around the both of them, one pile of a bear hug. They stood like that for a few moments and then Bev pulled away.

“Okay, I should go. I love you guys.” Her eyes were wet, but Stan knew she wouldn’t let the tears fall. She placed a hand on each of their cheeks and then surprised him by giving each of them a soft kiss on the corner of their mouths. Stan blushed. “And you!” She put a yellow-painted fingernail in Richie’s face. 

He put a hand on his chest as if to say, “Me?” but smiled, pretending to take a bite from her finger.

“You remember what I said. Stay safe, okay?” The two girls started moving backwards, towards the glass building and Stan felt his own feet move back towards where they’d parked. He wondered what she had told him.

“We will,” Richie said, hand up to wave. “I love you Beverly Marsh!”

They were going in the doors and Bev called back, “I love you, you big idiots!” And then they were gone, swallowed by the sleek insides of the Art Institute.

The two of them turned, walking in silence for a moment. As they got back to the car, Richie laughed. Stan laughed too, seeing how quickly Richie’s face had gone red.  
“What?” He said.

Richie wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh, I was just thinking. Bev is going to fuck that girl.” 

And that got them both laughing.

\---

They got back on the highway with no trouble, the only thing between them and California were the thirty hours it would take them to drive, sleep or no sleep. 

Richie sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at the endless spans of road ahead, cars passing around them. Stan glanced at him occasionally, very aware that they were alone now, very aware of the closeness of the two of them. Was Richie okay? What was he thinking about?

Suddenly, Richie sat up in his seat, the seatbelt straining against his sudden forward motion and he pointed, seemingly at nothing, and shouted, “Pull off here!”

“What!” Stan replied, looking to see what exit he wanted. It was the I-70 exit, and the complete opposite direction than where they needed to go.

“Get off now!” Richie leaned over, like he might grab the steering wheel, but they were about to miss the exit, going 75 miles an hour and if Richie grabbed the wheel and turned it, the little car would flip and they would never make it anywhere they wanted to go again. But Stan did it anyway, turning the wheel as quickly as he could, checking haphazardly over his shoulder as he merged through two lanes of traffic and off onto the I-70 exit. 

He had to slow down a little to ensure that he didn’t kill either of them by going into the guardrails on either side of the little merger lane and he was panting. 

“Richie, what the fuck!” It would be another five or even ten miles before they could get back on track now. His heart was pounding in his chest.

Richie had put his hands on the dash to steady himself, chest also heaving, and he looked at him. He looked so lost and far away and it frightened Stan. “Rich, what’s wrong?” 

He had to swallow to steady his breathing a little more. “I was thinking we should uh,” He chuckled, like this had been the plan all along. Surprise Stan with a sudden pull-off the highway and put them out of range of where they needed to be. “I was thinking we should see Kansas.”

Stan screwed his face up, turning back to the road. His heart was starting to calm down, thank god. He thought it might explode for a minute there. “What the hell is in Kansas?”

“I dunno. They made a whole movie about how a girl couldn’t wait to get back there. Thought it might be worth checking out.” He shrugged. “Plus, I hear you can see the stars there too.”

Stan scoffed. “You can see the stars here, too, Rich.” 

But he shook his head. “It’s not the same. And it’s not terribly far.” He pulled up his phone and Stan looked quickly from the screen to the road and back. Ten hours. That was far enough. It might actually be dark once they got there.

He sighed. “Well, don’t you have to be at school?” He thought it might be nice, get out into the country. This was a road trip, wasn’t it? 

“Not till Monday. Orientation is all weekend.” Richie replied, looking at Stan with hopeful eyes. 

Stan contemplated it, biting the inside of his cheek. This was the last time he was going to be with Richie for quite a while. He might want to soak up every single moment that he could. Right? 

He sighed and looked over at Richie. He had turned so that one of his legs was up in his seat and he was facing Stan more directly. He looked…afraid…nervous. What was the worst that could happen?

“Yeah, alright, you have to direct me then –” Richie uttered an exuberant ‘Yes!’ – “And then we’re staying on 70 until we get to California. We can stop in Colorado, but we aren’t trying to get weed so don’t even think about it –”

Richie went to put his hands on Stan’s face, decided it would be safer not to do that while driving and just smiled, huge and excited. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Stan I could fucking blow you I’m so happy right now!”

Stan blushed and he hoped Rich wasn’t looking. Soon the blush would just be a permanent fixture on his face. “Okay, dial it back, it’s Kansas, not Disney World.”

Richie laughed, muttered something that sounded like, “Close enough,” and they began the next ten hours of their journey.

\---

It was night well before they finally pulled over, having only seen one car in two hours or so. Kansas had been less than exciting and fairly cool, thankfully. Summer was taking its time kicking in here it seemed.

They were passing a field somewhere in western Kansas when Richie sat stark up in his seat, putting a quick hand on Stan’s arm. 

“This one, this is perfect.” 

They parked, sat in the car, clicking and popping as it cooled, and Stan looked at him. He was panting, and it made him nervous. 

“You okay?” Stan said.

Richie nodded, opened his door. The car flooded with light and Stan had to blink a few times to let his eyes adjust. He got out too, going to the backseat and getting the pink and blue and white knit blanket his mother always insisted he keep in the car for emergencies. When he finally closed the doors, locking the car, Richie was already at the fence, touching it carefully with his hands like it might be hot. 

The moon directed him, crickets and frogs singing a chorus in the air and he came up next to Richie.

Rich looked at him, and Stan’s eyes adjusted back to the dark. 

“Thought it might be electric, or barbed wire.” He said.

Stan looked at it. “Is it either?”

Richie shrugged. “Might have been electric but it isn’t on. Let’s go.” The fence was short enough that with a little hop, Richie could throw his leg over and Stan handed him the blanket, climbed over himself. 

He was suddenly nervous, the dark so completely swallowing that he forgot where he was briefly. “I’ve got you,” Richie said, and he carefully took his hand.

It was such a gentle touch, but it filled Stan with butterflies all the same. The waning moon cast a band of light across the field and directed Richie where to go, and Stan, in a state of delirium it seemed, followed unquestioningly. 

“How bout here?” Richie suddenly whispered. He pointed at the ground and Stan shrugged. What difference would it make, he wondered? They would be in the dirt regardless.

“Sure.” He whispered back.

Richie lay out the blanket, falling to his knees to make sure it was all flat then turned over and laid on his back. “Come on,” he insisted. 

Stan swallowed then carefully kneeled, letting himself fully settle on the blanket and taking a deep breath. The thought of them laying here, in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a knit blanket and the light cotton long sleeves they wore between them and dirt, bugs, grass, ticks, who knew what else, made him anxious. He wanted to get up, maybe go lay on the hood of the car instead, but he didn’t protest. This was Richie’s trip. And he wanted to be here with Richie.

The stars, as Richie had promised, were brilliant. Intense dots of light that twinkled and shone and it was breathtaking. They didn’t see stars like this even in Derry – too much light pollution. It was cool and the songs of the wildlife around them seemed to envelop him, swaddled him and he felt safe and cozy. He could fall asleep here. 

Richie broke the silence first, whispering, “It’s so quiet.”

“Well, it was –” Stan joked.

“Sorry, I –” His voice was disappointed, and it made Stan feel like an ass.

“No, don’t apologize, I was kidding.” They went back to being quiet and Stan wondered if he had fucked something up. But then Richie sniffled, adjusted himself so that he was just a little closer to Stan. It may not have seemed like a lot to Richie, but it was miles to Stan.

“You know, when I was like five or something, before I got my glasses, I was like, obsessed with the stars, like the whole concept. My mom used to read this book on Christmas Eve called ‘The Mole Family Christmas’ or something like that. You might know it as ‘Mole Family Hanukkah’ –"

“Beep, beep, Rich.” He chuckled.

“Right…anyway. I couldn’t see the stars before that, you know? Like I knew they were there, and but I never saw anything. And in the book, the mole family asks for a telescope from Santa, even though they’re like moles or whatever. So, I asked Santa for a telescope because I thought that was the only way to see them.” He laughed to himself. It was a beautiful sound. Stan wondered why he’d never noticed how beautiful that sound was. 

“Well, mom and dad realized I probably couldn’t see the stars because of my shitty eyes, not because I’m an idiot. So, they got me a book about the constellations and holy shit, I loved it. Read it cover to cover for three months straight. Then for Christmas…well, before Christmas I guess, I got glasses too and then, I finally saw the stars. And Christ it was the coolest fucking thing. And then, I got a telescope too. It was amazing. I looked through that thing until my eyes hurt…” He paused and Stan looked over at him. Even in the waning moonlight, he could see that he was smiling. “I’ll never forget that. Easily the greatest gift I ever got.” He sighed and Stan assumed he would continue, make a gross comment. But he didn’t. 

“Sorry that was a dumb story,” Richie said quietly.

“No, it wasn’t,” Stan interrupted. “It absolutely wasn’t.” He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard it before. It was so completely real and genuine that it couldn’t be anything less than the truth, anything less than…well, Richie.

“Do you know which constellations are which right now?” Stan asked quietly. 

Richie ‘hmmd’ and nuzzled his head down so that it was resting against Stan’s, just a little. “Yea, right there, we’ve got Libra, see the scales?” Richie pointed with his finger, but Stan could only see stars.

“And Lupus right there, see?” He took one of Stan’s hands carefully in his own, traced the line of Lupus the dog with his pointer finger, then carefully set it back down. He didn’t let go for a moment and Stan thought maybe, just maybe he was going to intertwine their fingers, but then he pulled away. And they fell silent again. But it wasn’t awful. It was perfect. 

His chest felt light and warm, and he wondered if it had to do with the fact that they were so close together now, laying here on the knit blanket in complete darkness, their arms rubbing together through their sleeves, the stars dimpling the sky like a million tiny heartbeats, his own quick and nervous in his chest.

“You know,” Richie started, and he had to clear his throat. “Sometimes I wonder…if I missed out on stuff, while I was there…in Derry. And I’m worried that like, I’ll forget things once I’m gone.”

Stan looked at him, but Richie was turned away. He felt his face fall a little. “What, you’re not going back?”

“Naw, there’s no reason to. What do I have for me there anymore? Everyone’s leaving.” He paused. “Everyone important anyway.”

“What do you think you missed?” Stan asked, turning his head so he could watch Richie speak. He wanted to ask him why he thought he’d forget. That was confusing. He didn’t know what he wanted him to say, but he felt hopeful all the same. What a ridiculous feeling. This was Richie for crying out loud, his best friend. 

Stan heard the click of Richie swallowing and letting out a low breath. He waited, his heart only pounding impatiently in his throat. 

“I feel,” he started. “I feel like I had everything a kid could want, you know? Good grades, relatively cool parents…you guys. God you guys made everything so easy. It was like, we were our own family. We fell together, so easily. But… and I know it’s dumb, trust me…I never got to fall in love, you know?”

Stan blinked. “What?” He said. “You never fell in love? That’s what you think you missed?” He felt so cliché saying it, like these were the lines in the romantic comedy right before the destiny-fated couple kissed with a swell of terrible music in the background. But it wasn’t right, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen for them. And for some reason that made him sad. 

“I know, it’s stupid.” Richie laughed low and then looked up at the stars, his head tilted so far back that Stan could see the line of his Adam’s apple, plain as if it were broad daylight. 

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Stan said, and he felt his cheeks get hot. What did he mean? Everything Beverly had said was looping in his mind and he just wanted this to be easier. He wanted to be able to say what he was feeling, every insane feeling, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“You know, for a while I thought it could have been you.” Richie whispered, so quietly that Stan almost didn’t hear him.

“Me?” He replied, his heart rising again into his throat, and he thanked god that Richie had wanted to look at the stars in the middle of nowhere, not somewhere he would see the blush deepening on his cheekbones. 

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, it was a while ago. Like an afterschool special, I almost fell in love with my best friend. But then I realized something.” He stopped and didn’t speak for so long Stan thought he had fallen asleep, and it made Stan more nervous than anything had before. He risked a glance and then rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his fist and looking down at Richie.

“What’s that?” In the moonlight, he looked like something out of a dream, all soft edges and a small soft smile. He was absolutely beautiful. 

Richie looked at him and the gentle smile made his heart speed off like a train off its tracks. “I realized that you would probably break my heart.” 

Stan blinked, and he felt his whole body go cold. Break his heart? Richie chuckled, then brushed a strand of hair out of Stan’s eyes. The touch made him shiver but he was still stuck right there in those words, break my heart. Richie thought that he would have broken his heart. 

He rolled back down onto his back, crossing his arms over his chest. Richie watched him as he laid back down and then threw an arm behind his head. His brows pulled low over his eyes as he contemplated this. Wow, he thought. Is that really what Richie thinks of me? 

“Hey,” Richie said, and Stan looked at him a little, but didn’t really turn his head. Richie’s face was concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry –”

Stan tried to laugh, brush it off. “No, no you didn’t –”

“You know me, my mouth is an asshole, fuck them both, right –”

“It’s really okay, Richie – ”And he tried to tell himself that that was the truth. 

“Wow,” Richie said, laughing. “A mouth as an asshole joke and you didn’t even tell me to shut the fuck up. You’re losing your touch, Uris.” 

Stan rolled his eyes and then genuinely laughed, giving Rich a playful shove and shaking his head. They laid like that, laughing with one another, Richie making idiotic comments, Stan telling him, “Beep, beep.” This was how it should be; this was easy. 

After a while, their laughter died down and the sound of bullfrogs and cicadas and nighttime birds filled the air around them and even though it was probably midnight, it was still warm as the daytime. A cool breeze ran along Stan’s skin and he shivered. There was a hollow feeling that was encompassing his heart, constricting on it like a snake, threatening to suffocate him. It took him a moment to place it but then it was clear as day. 

Disappointment. And why? 

He had never said anything to Richie. He had never said anything to anyone. Beverly had guessed his feelings based on a glance given in the backseat of his station wagon. Sure, they had their banter and Richie had his flirty comments, but he gave those to everybody. Stan was no different. You couldn’t always get what you want, his mind said. Even if what you wanted was so close. 

Richie gasped and pointed, “Holy shit, a shooting star, look!” 

Stan glanced up, caught the tail end of it, all dust and sparks and it left a streak along the inky black sky and then he let his eyes fall again. 

“Make a wish, Stan.” Richie said.

Whatever wish he made now would be so incredibly selfish that he almost couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to do it…but Richie seemed so excited, tracing the line of the star’s tail across the stars that for just a moment, he wished that whatever happened next, Richie could just be happy. Even if it meant that he wouldn’t be.


	3. Mountain Standard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Richie make it to Colorado, and maybe finally start to figure things out.

There were birds singing, their morning calls ringing in his ears. A yellow warbler, he thought, mind still groggy. Stan kept his eyes closed, soaking in the sounds, the cool blue of morning sunshine behind his eyelids trying to bring him to full wake. It was already starting to get hot and he wondered what time it was.

Something nudged his foot and he started and was suddenly staring up into the face of a gruff-looking mustachioed man, hands deep in his Carhartt’s pockets. Stan looked quick to Richie, still unconscious, tucked up on his shoulder with his glasses askew. His hands were curled up under his chin and for a moment Stan was struck with how…beautiful he looked. But there was a concerned looking man standing over the two of them, and they were looking very…affectionate.

“Everything okay here?” The man said, his voice graveled with time.

Stan nodded and shook Richie with his free hand, not letting his eyes leave the man and Richie made a soft sound in his throat. 

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, sleepy and half-closed, then followed Stan’s line of sight and saw the man standing there, who was now shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He adjusted his glasses and offered him an apologetic smile. “Hello.” He didn’t say anything else, and Stan wondered if maybe he was actually nervous.

The man sniffed. “You guys break down?”

The two of them sat up, stiff and wet with dew. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, probably seven am at the latest and Stan shook his head. “No, we uh, we just wanted to –” He paused, suddenly realizing how stupid it sounded.

“We just wanted to look at the stars, sir.” Richie finished. He was being quiet, polite, completely unlike himself. He watched the line of Richie’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

The man nodded. “Well, you boys best be moving along,” He cleared his throat. “We’re tearing up this field today.” 

Oh, thank god, Stan thought. He looked at Richie, whose face was pale. “Right, thank you sir.” He said.

They both stood, Stan brushing his pants off. Richie picked up the blanket, rolling it up in a ball against his chest, and they offered the man an uncomfortable smile, heading back to the car. Stan could feel his eyes burning into his back as they went, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he went, ready to put as much distance between them and this field as they could. 

They got in the car and he could see that Richie had pulled his lips in over his teeth, a little smile crooking the edges. He turned the car on, and without meaning to, gunned it, the tires spinning just a little before gaining traction.

And then Richie was laughing, slapping his legs, head thrown back. Stan smiled but it was a nervous smile. “Jesus, Christ, Rich, it’s not that funny. We were about to become a hate crime statistic.”

But Richie was still laughing, waving his hands in front of his face, trying to catch his breath. “No, that was fantastic, that guy’s face was worth the price of admission.” Stan smiled softly to himself, shaking his head. It had been pretty great, he guessed. 

They drove on for a while, stopping to get a drink and something to eat before getting on the road to Colorado. Richie drove for a while, letting Stan enjoy being the passenger for what might be one of the last times as their final destination grew closer and closer. They talked about what Richie was most excited about with school, what he thought California would be like. He had dreams, it seemed to Stan, that he had never taken the time to share with anyone. Not just his future, what job he wanted to do, no, that Stan knew, had known for a while. But Richie had this light about him, so full it would be impossible for anyone to dampen. He deserved that, Stan decided, he deserved the world. He was content these last few states just watching Richie talk. 

It took a few hours for them to come up on the border, easily one of the most boring stretches of their trip so far, but when they did, Richie pulled over in front of the ‘Welcome to Colorful Colorado’ sign. “Let’s get a picture!” He said, and they got out.

“Here!” Stan said, taking his phone out. “We’ll take individual ones, then a selfie.” Richie nodded and ran up in front of the sign and Stan held up his phone, smiling and counting, then snapped the picture. 

Richie half-galloped, half-tripped back towards him, taking his place. Stan went and stood in front of the sign, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. He placed them on his hips, offering a smile.

Then Richie was coming up to him, turning the phone so they could both be in the photo. Thankfully, his arms were longer, so he got them both and the whole sign. 

Their reflections on the screen seemed so strange. Foreign to him. Who were these two people? What were they doing here? As they went back to the car, Stan trailing behind Richie, he stared at the photo.

They looked so…happy. So really and genuinely happy, like that’s perhaps always how they should have been. And Stan had wasted it all. Really wasted it, hadn’t he?

Richie continued to drive, going on and on about something, Stan wasn’t listening. He was staring at that photo. Himself, then back at Richie.

Richie, the kid he’d become friends with on the playground. Richie, who liked to talk to dogs he saw on the street and love them because he’d never had one of his own. Richie, who had seen himself being able to love Stan and hadn’t because he thought that he would break his heart. That Richie. And this Stan. 

The thought made him sick. What kind of person did Richie think he was that he gave off the impression that he could hurt him. Had he really been so cold all this time and just never noticed it? What was wrong with him?

“You okay?” Richie asked.

“Hmm?” Stan replied. He turned and looked at him, whose eyebrows were pulled low in concern. “Yeah.”

“Well, I mean, you haven’t said a word in like an hour.” Richie looked at the road, then back.

Stan cleared his throat, fidgeting in his seat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Richie replied, quietly.

“Yeah.” Stan mumbled, and leaned his head against the window, trying not to look at him. 

“Okay…” Richie said. 

But he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t going to be okay. Richie was going across the country, as far away as he could possibly go, and Stan was never going to see him again. And he could feel a sweet, warm something growing in his chest and he worried. He worried that he was falling for his best friend.

\---

Richie pulled into the parking lot of a shitty little motel, the kind you see in horror movies, throwing the car in park. Now it had been nearly two hours without them speaking and the air around them had grown tense. A few times Richie had opened his mouth to speak, and Stan had just straight ignored him. He felt like an asshole for doing it, but he didn’t know what else to say or do.

“I’ll get the room.” Stan said, getting out of the car without waiting for a response. He could feel Richie’s eyes on his back as he went inside, asked for a room with two beds, two beds, he made sure that was very clear, gave the man his card. The man, a sour-faced man with glasses and a thin mustache gave him a key, one of the old-fashioned ones that are actual keys, and he left.

He felt like he was in a daze as he went back to the car, Richie leaning over the steering wheel. He gestured the key and waited, but Richie didn’t move. Not at first. He saw that he was mulling something over, and then, grabbing his backpack, got out of the car. 

Stan didn’t wait, instead taking lead, going toward room 7. He could hear the stark hard slaps of Richie’s shoes as he stalked after him, but he didn’t slow down or turn around. He knew some sort of fight was coming and didn’t want to be outside when it started. The hotel room door had barely clicked close and Richie was shouting, “What the hell is going on? Why are you ignoring me!” 

Stan inhaled deep through his nose. “I’m not I just didn’t realize we had to be speaking every moment of the day.” Cold, Uris, he thought. Even for you. 

He swallowed the taste of bile in the back of his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to Richie. He blinked, caught by surprise.

Richie was shaking, tears glistening behind his glasses. “You haven’t spoken to me since the state line, and I want to know what the fuck is going on!” He said, trying to hide the crack in his voice. Stan stood steady, crossing his arms across his chest. His heart was pounding. 

“Nothing! I have nothing to say!” He turned quickly, headed towards the bathroom sink, anything to not have this conversation, anything to pull himself as far away from this as possible, but Richie was right behind him, grabbing his arm and turning him back around. He looked at him incredulously, mouth open.

“Bullshit, I want to know what your problem is,” Richie said, taking a moment to quickly wipe the corner of his eye with his shirtsleeve, as if Stan wouldn’t notice. “What, was it what I said last night? Is that what this is about?”

“Leave it alone, Richie, I have no problem, drop it.” There was more ice in his voice than before, as if he couldn’t even make himself hold it back. Maybe he didn’t want to. They’d be to California soon and then maybe he could drown out these feelings, forget they ever existed, just pretend this wasn’t happening –

“Stan, please, what did I do? Of all the things I’ve said in the last ten years of our friendship, how was what I said last night the worst of it?”

“You think that’s what it is? That your nostalgia got the better of me and made it impossible for me to be around you? Maybe it’s just you, Richie!” Before he could stop himself, the words had tumbled out, poisonous and terrible from his lips. Richie took a little step back, gasping. He didn’t speak, just stared at Stan, mouth open, eyes shining. The pain written on his face made Stan feel sick, and all he could feel was regret, regret and pain and fear. He’d done it now. 

He swallowed and looked around, shaking his head. “You just couldn’t wait to get as far away as possible, could you?” Needle points of tears stabbed at his eyes and he swallowed. “Like, you couldn’t be bothered to stick around for what, another three fucking months? Spend time with us? Make memories? I don’t know fucking –” He almost spit it out – be with me – as if that were the only reason he should have stayed in Maine. To be with him. Jesus, what a fucking idiot he was. Thinking that Richie didn’t have a life that he deserved to live. He wanted to be swallowed into the sink but was content now just looking anywhere but at Richie. 

“That’s what it’s about?” Richie let out a barking laugh that sounded like it was covering a sob. “Oh, because I didn’t want to party with people from high school anymore? Got it, that’s the reason you’re making me ride in silence with you like an old married couple.”

“Well, I’m sure in any other circumstance you would have filled the silence with more useless shit!” 

“Stop it!” Richie came back. “You’re going out of your way to be cruel and it’s not you! Talk to me!” He tried to step towards Stan, but he put his hands up in front of him, shook his head. 

“You aren’t cruel! You aren’t mean! Sure, you’re an ass sometimes but it’s fun, it isn’t this shit. If I knew you were going to be like this I wouldn’t…” He stopped and sighed, and Stan had to look at him, try to read the feeling there on his face. His eyes, so deep and wild and full of excitement were glittering with fresh tears and oh how Stan wanted to kiss away those tears, just wanted to put his hands on Richie’s face and hold him, tell him over and over that he was wanted and how everything would be okay. 

“Stan, I –” Richie said, his voice low. “I’m so fucking…afraid. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen when I get there, once you leave…I’m…” A lone tear rolled down his cheekbone and he wiped it away just as quickly as it appeared. Stan’s heart felt cold, like it had fallen into the pit of his stomach. How was this going to help him in any way? How was him being an uncontrollable asshole going to make this less painful later?

“What are you afraid of, Richie?” He asked, his voice finally soft again. He stepped forward, found himself looking up into Richie’s face. Had he always been this tall? How impossible that Richie had grown up right in front of him and he hadn’t even noticed. It had only taken 3300 miles for him to see it. Or maybe he had fallen in love with him well before this, and it took the mileage for him to admit it to himself. 

“It doesn’t matter –” Richie began, but Stan had to fix this. Fix it now or lose Richie forever.

“It does, please!” He whispered, and with shaking hands, took Richie’s face. He looked up at him and Stan had to catch his breath. Wild, excited blue reflected back at him, and he found himself lost for a moment in the untold constellations of his face, freckles tracing out Libra and Lupus and the Herdsman and Stan could learn the lines of them, anything that meant he could stay here. “Please, Rich. Let me fix this. I’m sorry.” 

They stood like that for a moment, Richie’s hand resting on Stan’s forearm and they breathed the air of one another, and Stan couldn’t get his goddamn heart to slow, because they were so close that he could taste the sweet clove and mint of Richie’s skin and he wondered if it was the same taste on his tongue. 

After a moment, Richie took a deep breath, letting his cheek rest more fully on Stan’s palm. “I’m afraid because…I’m starting to forget, Stan."

Stan blinked, confused. Forget? Richie sighed. 

“I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but it’s true. I’m forgetting home. I’m forgetting Derry. I’m forgetting the Losers.” He pulled away and turned his back on Stan, who stayed in place, hands clasped together under his chin as if in prayer, mulling it over. 

Forgetting? But how? He stared at the smooth, clean line of his fingernail and thought for a moment. Aside from Beverly, still fresh in his mind, sort of, he was…was he forgetting too? 

“I-I don’t understand, forgetting, why, how?” He shook his head, blinked rapidly. Remember, Stan, just do it. But he couldn’t. The others were there, but they were faded, soft, like he could see their shapes and hear sounds that he associated with those shapes, but their faces. And their names? No, those he remembered. Ben, Bill, Mike, Eddie…Beverly...it was just the seven, right? Panic swelled in his stomach and he staggered. What was happening?

“What’s going on?” He said, his voice suddenly so small. Richie turned back to him, and he could see that his own fear realized was there too, hidden among the constellations and the cool waters of his eyes and behind it was also relief. He wasn’t crazy, that’s what that relief meant.

“I started forgetting as soon as we hit Mass, it was like, there was a block there. Like, I got a text from Bill and…I didn’t know who he was. Like, his name makes sense there, but I can’t picture his face clearly. And Mike and Eddie…just gone, I can’t even remember what they sound like. Ben is there, but I think that’s because of Beverly.” He ran a hand through his hair and paced the floor for a moment.

Stan was still stuck on those words. Forgetting home. “Are we sick?” He asked, but as soon as he said it, he knew it wasn’t the case, and Richie shook his head.

“Beverly was forgetting too, and…Jesus we just dropped her off and I’m starting to forget her too, Stan. Like…I know it’s dumb, but I can’t remember what kind of cigarettes she smokes. And I stole cigarettes from her every day for like six years.” He laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I think it’s just that…we left Derry, so we lose Derry. Like, I remember my parents plain as day but…I can’t remember where they work. God, how fucked up is that?”

Stan was still struggling to understand, but one question suddenly caught on his tongue. Was Richie starting to forget him, too?

“But,” He started, letting his hands drop to his chest, then finally down to his side. “You haven’t forgotten me.” Richie turned back to him, and there was a brief light of hope across his face. Maybe, that meant that they wouldn’t…

“I don’t want to,” He said. He took a tentative step forward and Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “I want more than anything not to, Stan.” He watched the Adam’s apple in Richie’s throat bob up and down and he too took a step forward, heartrate rising steadily in his chest. They were maybe a foot apart now and all Stan could see was the line of Richie’s jaw, the curve of his lips, the heart shaped patches of color on his cheeks, and that night sky that he felt himself drowning in. And suddenly he wanted more than anything in the world to not forget either, to be able to remember every piece of this man in front of him, at whatever cost. 

“I’m so afraid if I forget, that I’m going to lose this feeling, the one in my whole body that’s saying, ‘Hey asshole, it’s here. This one is for you.’ Because I have never felt more…it’s like I’m home. I see you and that’s all there is.” He was taking little steps towards Stan and Stan felt his own feet moving too, because he too wanted to close the distance here between the two of them, he couldn’t explain it. “And I know I said that it was a while ago, that I felt this way but that wasn’t true. I have felt like this for so long and it hasn’t gone away. And I don’t want to forget any of it because I am falling for you, and I don’t deserve you.”

Stan shook his head, eyes squinched shut tight to keep tears from building there he was just so happy, and he looked up into Richie’s face again, a smile taken to his lips.   
He opened his mouth to reply but the words were lost to Richie’s lips pressing hard and ragged against his own, and it caught him so off guard that he stumbled backwards a step, but Richie held him tight, and he let himself melt into the kiss.

Something like electricity, but more fiery and explosive ran along his skin, every nerve ending lit up and oh this is what he had been waiting for and he plunged his hands into Richie’s thick hair, letting their mouths fit together like two pieces of the same jagged picture. 

He could feel the tears Richie had finally let fall wet his cheeks, felt his own heart threatening to break through his ribs and slam full force into Richie’s chest and he felt his whole person stirring, everything was alive now and he could taste that clove and mint and smoke of his skin here on his tongue too and Richie made a sound in the back of his throat that made Stan want to scream but instead he mimicked the sound. Then Richie was lifting him off his feet, and Stan instinctually wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, he had no idea why he did it but Richie didn’t seem to mind, and they were moving, but all Stan could focus on was the heat their kissing was making build in his chest and stomach and everything was white hot, like every single match in the world was being struck right here and he didn’t want it to end.

Stan wanted to remember everything, every piece of Richie and he didn’t want him to forget him either. The last few weeks, months, years, who knows, were culminating here, in this shitty motel room with its ratty blanket and stained carpet, and he didn’t even care. 

And when this was over, he didn’t want to forget him, period. Regardless of how this night ended, he wanted to keep Richie here, in the foreground of his mind. He wanted to remember him even after everything else was gone.


	4. Pacific Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Richie make it to California, and have to say goodbye, whether they want to or not.

They both stared blankly at the license plate of the blue Nissan in front of them, Stan’s mouth dry and sour. He had spent so long staring at the 3RJG777 that it had become permanently affixed on the back of his eyelids. He hadn’t realized so many people would be starting summer classes this early like Richie was. At least he wouldn’t be lonely. 

Their drive through the remainder of Colorado, Utah, and Nevada into California had been a wild back and forth, a day and a half trying to remember everything. Richie had been taking notes while Stan drove, and then Stan would pick up where he left off. There was so much missing, he knew, and he could tell Richie knew it as well, but they both kept trying to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But he could barely remember Mike’s last name or if Eddie had chronic migraines or something else, and the feeling that it was all slipping away just…frightened him. But he could remember Richie’s parents’ names – Maggie and Wentworth – and Richie could remember his, and that was better than nothing. Right? 

He could see the rapid fire up-down jitter of Richie’s leg out of the corner of his eye. It made him anxious. He reached a hand out, placed it softly on Richie’s thigh. The bouncing stopped immediately, Richie putting his own warm hand on top of Stan’s. He hadn’t even realized he’d been white knuckled on the steering wheel.

“Okay, remind me,” Richie said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Bill has…red hair, right?” 

Stan had to wrack his own brain. Bill…yes, kind of gingery…and he…used to stutter. He squinted. “Yes, and Beverly too.” How quickly it was all fading away. God…

Richie made a sound between a sigh and a groan. “It’s already so far gone…I can’t believe it…” 

Stan nodded, his chest suddenly cold, then pulled Richie’s hand up to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I won’t let you forget any more, I promise.” It was a promise he hoped he could keep.

Richie tried to smile, but his face looked pained. He was reflecting everything in Stan’s own heart.

They finally pulled into a parking lot, a man in a reflective yellow vest directing the car towards open parking down the ways a bit. As he put the car in park, neither of them moved. He could hear Richie taking slow, shaky breaths. He looked at his hands. They seemed so small, cold, unattached from his body. He squeezed and opened his hands, once, twice, three times. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Richie whispered. Stan looked at him. 

His hair had fallen down into his face, covering his eyes. Stan’s heart pounded in his chest.

“You can,” He replied, just as quiet. 

Richie looked up at him, his eyes puffy behind thick rims. “And if I lose you in the process?” 

Stan unbuckled, turned to face him. He put his forefinger under Richie’s chin and brought his eyes up so he could see him better. He looked into those eyes, all swimming blues and greens and flecks of amber and counted the galaxies freckled across his face, and he thought, yes, I do love him. And that thought was more terrifying than just the forgetting. Forgetting someone you loved? 

He swallowed. “You won’t. I promise.” He kissed him softly, squeezing his own eyes tightly shut to keep them from watering. 

Richie pulled away first, placing a smaller kiss on his nose as he did. Stan couldn’t help but smile and blush. 

“Alright, let’s do this.” 

The dorm room was conservative, to say the least. But at least Berkeley had given him the choice of a single or double, and he’d snatched up one of the last singles on this floor. Other guys were bustling in and out of their own rooms, parents and siblings helping bring in chairs, pillows, blankets, and towels. Stan felt nervous and out of place, but a quick squeeze of Richie’s hand made all of those fears melt away. 

As Stan put away Richie’s clothes, hung them in the small portable closet and folded them away in the dresser, he listened to Richie talk. Being in the dorm had made him a little more excited, Stan could tell, because all he could talk about now were the summer classes, orientation, how maybe he would join a fraternity. For some reason the idea made Stan laugh. Richie? Wearing a backwards cap and shotgunning a shitty beer? He could see the shotgun but not necessarily the camaraderie. Besides, he already had best friends…him and the others… The others… He tried to picture them clearly in his mind, but it took a minute. Bill, Ben, Bev, Mike, Eddie, them. Yes, that was right. Shit.

Panic began to swallow him, but he tried to hide it. He didn’t want to worry Richie, who was chattering away as he set up his desk. If he was forgetting them already… He didn’t want to think of it.

An hour later and they were pretty much done. Richie stood staring at the room, wringing his hands together. Stan knew what he was going to say, but he didn’t want him to. 

“You can stay if you want,” Rich said, turning to him slightly. “I’ve got orientation at five, but you can stay…” His eyes were hopeful, but Stan knew he couldn’t. He supposed he could say it was the drive, but he knew what it really was. The longer he stayed, the more painful it would be to leave.

“You should get settled,” He said instead, offering Richie a gentle smile. He hoped it said, I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re going to be fine. But he felt like maybe all it said was, God I’m so afraid and I’m shit at hiding it.

Richie nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”

They went in silence, not touching or speaking, letting the air fill with their fear and nervousness instead of their words, out into the parking lot, where people were still in the process of unpacking and moving in. They came up on his car much quicker than he anticipated and they stood there, mulling over the fearful silence between them.

“I’ll call you from the car, we can talk before you have orientation.” Stan offered.

“Naw, you have to focus on the road, I don’t want to distract you.” No usual Richie wit. That almost worried him more than anything else.

“Okay,” He whispered, then swallowed. They stood there, looking from their feet to one another’s faces, then without warning, Richie swooped him up in his arms, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. He felt his hands bunch up on the back of his shirt, and he buried his own face in Richie’s shoulder. Don’t cry, don’t cry. 

They stood there like that, the cars and people all white noise in his ears and he breathed Richie in, clove and smoke, trying to pinpoint that smell in his mind, hide it away in a nook where it would never fade, and maybe, just maybe, he could keep him there. Tucked away, unforgotten. Richie kissed the side of his neck over and over, whispering something to himself that he couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t talking to him.

After what could have been hours, but was probably only minutes, they broke apart and Stan felt he would never again have that feeling of…he didn’t know. Home, perhaps. He offered Richie a small smile. 

“I’ll miss you, Richie,” He said, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him the truth, that he loved him, more than anything at all. Friend love or the blooming emotion between lovers, he didn’t know. But he knew that no matter what happened, that love would remain there. Somewhere behind his ribs and in his bloodstream. 

“Oh, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” Richie sniffled, chuckled. “You’re just gonna miss this body.” 

Stan rolled his eyes, scoffed. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

He kissed him then, placing his hands against either side of his face, breathing him in, deepening the kiss. Richie put his own hands on Stan’s waist, drawing him in closer, a smile playing on his mouth, and nothing else existed, it was just this, here, right now. The future could wait. And it would. 

It was someone wolf-whistling from a passing car that made them finally stop, breathless and blushing. Richie fixed his glasses and ran a hand through his hair. His cheeks were a soft pink and it made Stan’s own face burn. He took a step back, inhaled. 

“I’ll be seeing you, then.” He said. The back of his throat felt thick and heavy as he went around the side of the car, offered a little wave, and got in. He had to take a few hard breaths as he buckled up to keep his mind from going to that all too obvious conclusion. That this goodbye felt real. That it was real. But he pulled away all the same, heart pounding. 

He watched Richie’s fading figure, hands in pockets, in the rearview mirror, tears stinging his own eyes. He tried to inhale, felt himself choke on the breath. As he turned back onto the main road, and Richie disappeared, he felt the tears finally slip down his face. Don’t cry, don’t cry. 

He barely made it to the highway before he was sobbing. He let the tears slip fat and unfettered down his face, cooling the burning that grew there. He should go back, he wanted to go back, tell Richie that it would all be okay that they would be here together no matter what. That he wouldn’t forget, that he loved him, he truly did.

But he couldn’t. So, he didn’t.

After maybe twenty minutes, the sobbing finally died down, fading into hiccupping breaths and he wiped his eyes. It would be okay, he told himself. Everything would be just fine.

After an hour, he turned the radio on, and a song he recognized came on, but he couldn’t place the artist. It was a girl singing about other girls, soft. It was cute. Maybe Richie would know it. In the back of his mind, he thought he remembered someone he knew…singing it? Maybe…playing it on guitar maybe? Hmm.

He pulled into a little motel that night, the kind you see in horror movies, and paid the man behind the counter. He felt like he had just been here but knew that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been in California for even twelve hours. Weird. 

As he laid down to sleep, he thought to himself that California sure was beautiful, but it wasn’t really for him. Maybe…Richie… Well, Richie liked it, and that was all that mattered. Right?

That night he dreamt of something full and happy, like the rise and fall of the ocean, outlines running towards the water on a muddy beach, sounds of laughter filling him full and complete. It was a feeling like home, home, not Derry, but something else, like something tangible. Something he could touch. And the feeling was also love. Complete and unbroken love. 

He awoke the next morning, refreshed, though his eyes were sore for some reason, the dream quickly gone and forgotten, checked out, and got back on the road. 

He thought he could make it through Nevada, or even halfway to Colorado, if he tried. Maybe he should call his parents later, let them know where he was. Let them know that his road trip was fun, but he was ready to be home. He was sure they couldn’t believe that he had taken it so soon after school ended. And all alone too! Something nagged at him in the back of his mind, told him not to forget but what that something was, he didn’t know. As he drove off on the highway, putting California behind him, he began to hum to himself.


End file.
